


awaiting to taste

by heatdeath (keptein)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/heatdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koutarou studies the sharp slope of his nose, the slight jutting of his lower lip, and the elegant line of his jaw. Akaashi’s so handsome it scares him sometimes, because he could wreck Koutarou so, so easily.</p><p>The scenario makes the base of his spine tingle. Then again, he thinks, that’s not always so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	awaiting to taste

**Author's Note:**

> so... here we are. looks at tags. looks towards the sky. i've never written pwp before, and this wouldn't have been written without the terrific support of arsenicjay, kastron and oddlygay. thanks a bunch, you nerds. this entire fic was written to electric guest's _awake_ , and so is the title. happy bokuaka day!

They’re lying on Akaashi’s bed, side by side, over the covers. On the floor, Akaashi’s laptop lies open, playing something soft that does nothing to ease the itch under Koutarou’s skin. His clothes feel too small, almost constricting over his chest. He stares at the ceiling, playing with Akaashi’s fingers, waiting impatiently.

Next to him, Akaashi is quiet, content to be listening to the music welling up from the floor. When they came in, that was all he’d said - “I want to listen to this,” inviting Koutarou to lie next to him on the bed and twining their fingers together.

Koutarou wonders if he’s forgotten what he promised him, but he doesn’t think so - Koutarou hasn’t been able to think of anything else all day, and it must have gotten to Akaashi too. He strokes the length of Akaashi’s palm, opening his mouth to ask, then closing it again when a new track starts.

It’s weird to be this eager, he knows. It’s not how he should be, but that’s nothing new.

He shifts so he can see Akaashi’s face, half-closed eyes and smoothened brows tilted up towards the ceiling. Sometimes he hums one or two bars along with the music, even though this is lighter than anything Koutarou has heard him put on before.

Koutarou studies the sharp slope of his nose, the slight jutting of his lower lip, and the elegant line of his jaw. Akaashi’s so handsome it scares him sometimes, because he could wreck Koutarou so, so easily.

The scenario makes the base of his spine tingle. Then again, he thinks, that’s not always so bad.

The current track draws to a close, the hoarse vocals lingering, and Koutarou sees his chance. “So,” he says as casually as he can, giving Akaashi’s hand a squeeze.

Akaashi hums in question, turning his head to look over at him. Koutarou raises his eyebrows, trying to pretend like his palm isn’t sweaty and gross against Akaashi’s, like his neck isn’t getting warmer for every second Akaashi looks at him.

“Now?” Akaashi asks.

Koutarou nods. “If you want to,” he rushes to add.

“I do,” Akaashi says. He sits up on one elbow, eyes slipping over the length of Koutarou’s body. “I just thought you’d want to wait a little.”

Koutarou doesn’t want to tell Akaashi that just the thought of blowing him is enough to get him hard, so he settles for shaking his head, though his cheeks are red enough to betray him if Akaashi knows what to suspect.

Akaashi watches him a little longer. He leans down to kiss him, one hand resting on Koutarou’s chest - his lips are smooth against Koutarou’s and soon he’s licking into his mouth, tongue warm against his. He bites Koutarou’s lip, the sting staying under his skin for a moment, and Koutarou sucks on his tongue, letting out a muffled sound. His hand rests on the nape of Akaashi’s neck, but Akaashi doesn’t let him move, doesn’t let him take charge of the kiss - he keeps it deep and drawn out, winding Koutarou up with every nip and suck, the tease of his tongue keeping Koutarou’s mouth open and eager.

When they finally separate, Akaashi looks dazed, blinking twice before he focuses on Koutarou. He takes a couple of breaths and manages to make himself look composed despite his reddened lips and flushed face - Koutarou knows he himself must look desperate in comparison, flustered with frustration painting a heavy blush over his cheeks.

“Okay,” Akaashi says, breathing the words out, and then he leans over Koutarou, arm stretching down and out to turn off the music.

The room is suddenly very silent. Koutarou can feel the anticipation like a layer under his skin, pulling taut and keeping every nerve buzzing - there’s an edge there, one that’s always present with Akaashi, even if he’s not even looking at Koutarou.

Akaashi stands up and takes off his jeans, the zipper rasping loudly in the quiet. From the bed, Koutarou watches him, heart pounding. He gets up after a moment of indecision, and asks, “Where do you want me?”

Akaashi looks thoughtful as he pulls off his t-shirt. “I’ll sit on the edge of the bed,” he decides. “You can be on the floor.”

“Oh. Okay,” Koutarou says, and when he gets off the bed to crouch down, Akaashi grabs his wrist.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Do you want me to - do that thing I do?”

Koutarou looks at him, then down at the visible line of his cock straining through his jeans, and back up at Akaashi. “What do you think,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That’s no measure,” Akaashi says, frowning. “I want you to be into it up here.” A hand strokes through Koutarou’s hair and he leans into it before pulling away.

“I am,” he says, darting forward to give Akaashi a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, I’m into it everywhere.”

“Good,” Akaashi says, and his eyes are still soft when he says, “Then get on your knees.”

Koutarou jolts and laughs to cover it. Hearing Akaashi say shit like that is ridiculous, especially when he’s clearly joking, but Koutarou still finds it unbearably hot, and one day he’ll manage to tell him that in detail. For now he just gets on his knees between Akaashi’s legs, while Akaashi sits as far off the bed as he can without losing his balance.

Akaashi lets his hand skim down his chest before he slips his hand down his boxers, biting his lip when he curls his fingers around his cock and starts stroking.

“ _Shit_ ,” Koutarou says, and Akaashi laughs a little. Koutarou hasn’t been privy to the sight of him jerking off a lot, and there’s something alluringly unceremonious about it. He can see Akaashi’s hand moving, his lips still red and bitten, but there are no theatrical moans, no exaggerated shots of him throwing his head back like there usually are in Koutarou’s fantasies.

He wonders if he could get Akaashi to put on a show like that for him sometime - maybe for his birthday. Right now, it’s already hard enough to keep himself from touching him, and Koutarou’s own hands ball into fists on his thighs.

Akaashi finally takes off his underwear, his cock hard and hot in his hand. Koutarou’s mouth starts watering, the steady stream of encouragement he’d been letting out as soon as Akaashi started touching himself falling even easier from his lips now - “holy shit, Akaashi, you look so good, just, can I, _Akaashi_ ,” - because he never stays quiet unless Akaashi says he has to.

Akaashi strokes himself again, just once with his eyes hooded, and then he interrupts Koutarou. "Go ahead," he says, gaze heavy and heated when Koutarou meets it - Koutarou's words stick in his throat, because saying thank you is too much even for him, and he gulps them down. He nods and sits forward, licks his lips to wet them and takes Akaashi's cock into his mouth, pushing forward as he tries to loosen his throat and bring him in deep from the get-go.

He chokes, pulling back and coughing. “Careful,” Akaashi says sharply, but there’s a soft hand in Koutarou’s hair, guiding him forwards again, and he resigns himself to licking at the smooth skin, mouthing at the head before he sucks at it.

Akaashi’s moan of approval reverberates through him, the hand still on his head stroking through his hair and sending shivers down his spine. The taste of precome is salty on his tongue, although it’s familiar at this point, and almost - embarrassingly - welcome. Koutarou remembers it sometimes, late at night, alone and frustrated and sucking on his own fingers to pretend he can still taste Akaashi lingering on his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the reality of it. He runs the flat of his tongue over Akaashi’s frenulum, licking over his slit and down his shaft.

His mouth is wet now, jaw loose and he’s _eager_ , so fucking eager, so he shifts forward, putting one hand on Akaashi’s thighs for balance as the other holds Akaashi’s cock still, guiding it into his mouth inch by inch. He’s breathing through his nose, short, quick inhales that don’t fill his lungs at all, but it feels good, too good to pull back and breathe properly - he only goes as far back as he has to, eager to ease the pressure into his mouth again, as far down his throat as he can go without choking.

His blood pounds loud in his ears, but he can still hear how quiet the room is - the only sounds are the sloppy, wet noises he's making as he works Akaashi's cock of his mouth. Usually, Koutarou talks during these private moments, long nonsensical odes to Akaashi and about whatever he's doing, but now that it’s all but silent, the lewd pop he makes when he pulls off to breathe is loud. Akaashi's panting, harsh breaths, and when Koutarou looks at him, his face is open and vulnerable. He's staring down at Koutarou, eyes wide open in fascination, flushing down his chest as he watches his cock disappear into Koutarou's mouth again.

The weight of it is heavy on Koutarou's tongue, pressing against the back of his throat, and it's so fucking hot. He's pushing his limits and it feels _good_ \- the pressure builds behind his eyelids, with the fullness he's been craving too good and too real to pull off. His lashes feel wet, and he doesn't know when he closed his eyes, but he must look reverent to Akaashi’s eyes  - and that image makes him even harder, makes him want to try for longer.

"Koutarou," Akaashi says, placing a hand on his cheek, and Koutarou finally pulls away, moaning softly with every huff of breath. His lungs are screaming, but his jeans are suddenly so tight they hurt, and he doesn't regret it, not even when Akaashi's fingers run soothingly over his eyes and come away wet. “Be careful,” he says.

Koutarou grins up at him, spit-wet lips stretched wide. “I’m fine, don’t you worry,” he rasps, his ruined voice rumbling up from his chest, and Akaashi closes his eyes at the sound, visibly shivering. Koutarou laughs a little and leans forward to fasten his mouth to Akaashi’s thigh, sucking on the pale flesh. His jaw is getting tired, but he doesn’t want to stop, and he wraps one hand around Akaashi’s cock again, rubbing the head of it a couple of times with his thumb before he sucks it back into his mouth. His other hand rests on top of Akaashi’s thigh, but he’s careful not to dig his fingers in, even though he wants to.

He looks up at Akaashi, and shudders when their eyes meet - Akaashi’s eyes are heavy and dark, his mouth lax and open as he stares intently back at him, pinning him in place. Koutarou moans, throat vibrating around Akaashi, who groans and twitches his hips once before stilling. It takes Koutarou by surprise, and he tries to encourage it, relaxing his mouth around Akaashi’s cock - but Akaashi doesn’t do anything, and Koutarou pulls off again in frustration.

“You can do it,” he tries, but he has to cough and repeat it because his voice is so rough.

Akaashi gazes down at him, almost like a benevolent ruler. “What?”

“You can fuck my face,” Koutarou says. His face is heating, and he must look disgusting, with sweat, spit and tears all a mess on his face, but Akaashi blushes too, suddenly and fiercely.

“Okay,” he says, and his hand cradles the back of Koutarou’s head, the other one curled around the edge of the bed.

Koutarou takes Akaashi back into his mouth again and tries to hum, eyes intent as Akaashi bites his lip and starts to thrust - carefully at first, then faster when he meets little resistance, Koutarou fighting hard to keep his mouth and throat relaxed as best he can. Akaashi’s grip on his head tightens, and Koutarou gags when he nudges the back of his throat, instinctively pulling back - but Akaashi holds him fast, even though Koutarou can feel saliva running down his chin and he’s tearing up again. His breathing is erratic, gulping air whenever Akaashi lets him, his lungs burning. He can’t take the length of his cock, and when Akaashi tries he chokes again, but this is what he wants _so fucking bad,_ his mouth slack as Akaashi fucks into it, the loss of control terrifying and arousing at the same time.

The heat is building throughout his body, the fabric of his own jeans rough against his crotch as he shifts, and Akaashi’s soft groans fall faster, building in volume as his hips work back and forth. Koutarou can see his own hands shaking against Akaashi’s thighs, or maybe Akaashi’s thighs are shaking, or maybe they’re both shaking together -

The hand in his hair tightens suddenly, painfully, and he groans, the edge of it running all the way down his spine, the ache in his jaw and he’s close, suddenly, but he can’t get a hand in his own pants, and Akaashi’s the one who matters right now, it’s _Akaashi_ -

“Fuck, Koutarou,” Akaashi breathes loudly, his hips stuttering into Koutarou’s  mouth, and then he’s coming. Koutarou tries to swallow as much as he can, absently registering the taste of it, but he can feel some of it dribbling down his chin. When Akaashi finally slips out from between his lips, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, but that just smears the mess across his jaw. He thinks about how he must look, desperate and flushed, hair mussed, with come and spit on his chin, cheeks still wet. He feels _wrecked_ , and he's so hard in his jeans, still dressed but looking ruined while Akaashi’s naked and perfect -

Akaashi sighs and scoots back a little. His one hand is still in Koutarou’s hair, and the other on his cheek, dragging a calloused thumb through the mess. Koutarou feels edgy and strung-out at the same time, like an exposed wire, just one touch away from going off. Akaashi’s hand pets his hair gently, and it’s not enough, he needs more, he needs -

“You really like this,” Akaashi says, thumb stroking his cheek. He sounds almost wondering, no hint of a bite or disgust, but Koutarou still flinches and pulls away a little, embarrassment making the blood surge both to his face and down to his groin. On Akaashi’s thighs, his hands are curling and uncurling, desperate for something more, some release. But then the hand in his hair abruptly tightens, and Akaashi pulls his head back up so he can look him straight in the eye, and he says, “Maybe I’ll let you do it more often.”

The sharp tug of his hand, the look in his eyes, the idea of - of getting to do this _anytime_ , of getting Akaashi this close and - and -

Sudden warmth spreads through him, shoulders hitching - he opens eyes he didn't know he'd closed to see his own hands tightly gripping Akaashi’s thighs, and Akaashi blinking down at him. He leans forward to rest his head against his thigh, shakily catching his breath against the soft skin.

“Did you just...” Akaashi starts, then trails off.

Koutarou tries to hide his face, letting out unintelligible whining sounds in lieu of a reply. He lifts his head a little to peek up at Akaashi, who’s smiling. “Don’t laugh at me,” Koutarou grumbles.

“I’m not,” Akaashi says plainly, although he still sounds amused. “Come lie down, I’ll get a cloth for you.”

Koutarou grimaces and stands up, but he’s been on his knees for too long - he stumbles forward into Akaashi, who helpfully maneuvers him onto the bed. His boxers feel more disgusting by the minute, but now that he’s lying down, he can’t find the energy to move.

Akaashi slips on a clean pair of boxers and heads to the bathroom, returning with a wet washrag. Koutarou sits up with a grunt, gesturing for Akaashi to toss him a fresh pair of boxers to change into too, and he tries to shimmy into them with minimal effort. He lies back down with a sigh, and Akaashi bends over Koutarou and gently wipes his face, saying nothing, before he puts the rag aside and lies down next to him.

Koutarou feels sleepy, but now that everything’s over he feels jittery too, imbued with a nervous burst of energy when he thinks of what just went down.

“Move over,” Akaashi says.

“What, are you gonna spoon me?”

“Yes,” he says easily, and Koutarou smiles into the mattress as he moves to lie on his side. Akaashi snuggles up behind him, his fingers skating up Koutarou’s torso to land on his jaw, massaging gently.

“It’s fine,” Koutarou says quickly, but he doesn’t move away.

“Let me do this for you,” Akaashi says, his other arm hugging Koutarou close.

“You don’t - you don’t owe me anything, or anything like that,” Koutarou says again, eyes fastened on the wall. “I mean, obviously I like it, you know.”

Akaashi’s laughter is a huff of breath against his neck. “I know,” he says, and Koutarou squirms a little. “I like it too. Thank you.”

“Akaashi - don’t _thank_ me! That’s just weird!”

Akaashi sits up a little, the hand still on Koutarou’s jaw tilting his head back until they’re looking at each other. “I’ll thank you if I want to,” he says firmly.

“I just like making you feel good,” Koutarou says helplessly.

Akaashi’s smile is warm. “Yeah,” he says. He leans down and kisses Koutarou’s cheek, lips resting there for a moment. “I like making you feel good too, you know.”

“You do,” Koutarou says quickly. His mouth still tastes of cock and he doesn’t know if he can kiss Akaashi, so he doesn’t - instead he lies on his back to snake an arm around him and hug him closer, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. _Maybe I’ll let you do it more often_ , Akaashi had said, and the thought makes Koutarou grin stupidly into Akaaashi’s hair.

“What is it?” Akaashi asks, sounding exasperated.

“Nothing,” Koutarou says. “Just happy.”

“Okay,” he replies after a pause. “Me too.”

“Cool,” Koutarou says, the force of his grin actively reminding him how tired he is, how worn his mouth still feels. “We’re napping now.”

He can feel Akaashi’s quiet laughter more than he hears it, but there are no objections. Akaashi’s warm against him, his body firm yet soft enough when Koutarou cuddles closer, wrapping all his limbs around him. Akaashi will move away soon enough, claiming Koutarou’s too warm, but for now he lets them lie like that, curled around each other. Koutarou imagines he can still hear Akaashi’s band playing, like the soft music’s streaming through the room again, and he knows he’ll fall asleep soon, breathing in Akaashi’s scent with every inhale. The aftertaste is still on his tongue, bitter and not sweet at all, and he spends his last waking moments committing it to memory.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr & twitter as [tivruskis](http://tivruskis.tumblr.com), follow for more embarrassing bokuto thirst


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